Born Under a Lucky Star
by Triola
Summary: ONESHOT Harry Potter was born under a lucky star. Or so he’d been told. But where do you go when you want to resign? Because after all, being born under a lucky star isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.


**Title:** Born Under a Lucky Star.  
**Author name:** triola  
**Category:** General  
**Sub Category:** Angst  
**Rating: **T  
**Summary:** Harry Potter was born under a lucky star. Or so he'd been told. But where do you go when you want to resign? Because after all, being born under a lucky star isn't all it's cracked up to be.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Author notes: **I don't really know where this came from, it's just a short little thing I wrote to amuse myself. Didn't come out very amusing, though. Still, might be worth a read. Dunno.  
**Warning: **This story contains musings from an angsty, teenage mind. Beware.

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Harry Potter had always been told he was born under a lucky star. It didn't make much sense to him since he knew for certain he was born during the day, but apparently it was true. Even Dumbledore had said so. It was in his first year, when he had gone against Quirrell. Harry knew he hadn't been supposed to hear it, but Dumbledore was standing right in front of the door to the infirmary, and the door had been slightly open, so he couldn't help listen in.

"That boy was born under a lucky star."

That was what he said. Just like that. Even though Sirius had told Harry that the sunlight had been streaming through the window the morning he was born. Maybe Sirius had been too preoccupied to notice that it wasn't really sunlight, it was starlight? Harry thought that might be it. Sirius often seemed very preoccupied. But on the other hand, that might have something to do with Azkaban. Harry wasn't sure, but he thought that place might make anyone a bit preoccupied. Or crazy. Both maybe.

Harry was quite certain Sirius had never been born under a lucky star. Ending up in prison wasn't what he considered very good luck. But neither was engaging in yearly get-togethers with Dark Lords either, now that he thought about it. Although he supposed the lucky part played a role in the getting away bit of the deal. You didn't just hail a cab after a meeting with Tom, unfortunately. It would have been nice if it was a simple as that though. Would have spared Harry many hours of escape planning. Still, he hadn't needed to do all that much planning, now had he? He was born under a lucky star after all.

And therein lay the problem. Harry might be born under a lucky star, but he didn't want to grow up under one. Not any more. He knew that without it he might not be able to get away from the next Death Eater revelry, but he'd take that chance. After all, if he couldn't get away, he could always stay, now couldn't he? Tom mightn't be so keen on killing him if he wasn't living under a lucky star anymore. Maybe. On the other hand Tom was always keen on killing him, but maybe they could change that. They could have a nice, long chat over a cup of tea, and then Harry could reveal that he was no longer living under a lucky star, and then Tom would congratulate him and leave him alone. Because Dark Lords couldn't have nemeses that didn't live under lucky stars, it was unheard of.

And then Harry would run. He would kiss Hermione on the cheek, give his Firebolt to Ron, and run. Or maybe he would drive, he'd gotten his driver's license last year after all. He wasn't quite sure where he would drive, but maybe up north somewhere. Where the summers were cold, but where the sun shone all night. Midnight sun, they called it. Harry had never seen it before, and he thought it very strange that the sun could shine all day, and then continue shining all night. Wouldn't it get very tired? Harry knew he was. Tired of shining that is. But, at least if the sun shone all night, there would be no stars. No moon either, but definitely no stars. And you couldn't possibly live under a lucky star if there were no stars, now could you?

And Harry kind of thought he deserved a break. From everything really. Dark Lords, Order members, Death Eaters, lucky stars, you know, life in general. Mostly stars, though. He wondered who they would give his place to when he was gone, because certainly they needed someone to fill the empty space. Someone who could brave Dark Lords, fight evil, get his photo taken without flinching. Or her photo, of course. Could be a girl. If they found a girl that didn't mind being born under a lucky star, that is. He didn't think any girl would mind, but you never knew. He might be wrong about them, although he didn't think he was. To him they seemed like very silly creatures, the kind that would think the whole star idea romantic. Or something. Nevertheless, they would have to work hard, and they couldn't mind getting their hands dirty. Because they would. Get dirty that is. Harry's hands had been blood stained for a week after the last meeting with Tom. It wasn't Tom's blood though, no, never Tom's, but it was Malfoy's. The older. Lucius, or something. Harry hadn't wanted to kill him, but he did. Because that was what living under a lucky star meant. You had to torture, you had to kill, and you could do it with a clear conscience. Because you knew you would be able to get away with it. Because you lived under a lucky star.

It had taken Harry a while to understand this, the expectations that followed his predicament. Now he did. And he knew that was all there was to it. Expectations. It wasn't some great heroic drama where the hero killed the villain and then escaped with his life because he was born under a lucky star. No, apart from the killing part, it was nothing like that at all. You see, the villain never died. He lived on and on and on and on, until the hero ran away, preferably to the north, and then he was replaced by someone else. Someone who would kill and maim and torture for the sake of good, until their soul scattered and they ran. Just like everyone before them had. And just like everyone after them would. Because being born under a lucky star wasn't all it was cracked up to be. It never had been. Harry just hadn't realised it before.

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So, any thoughts? All reviews are appreciated. I'll even answer them if you want me to. Just say the word. 


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